The Diamond Bow Brooch
by amethyst-uk
Summary: Dealing with the theft of antique jewels is a usual thing in the everyday of Neal Caffrey. Except this particular one will make him face the past he initially started running away from, and a brother he once used to know. Glee/WhiteCollar Crossover.
1. Prologue

**For a long time, I've been aware of the lack of good, lengthy, **_**completed **_**crossovers between Glee and White Collar, so I decided to collaborate with my own. Of course, maybe I'm not that good at searching, so if any of you know any fic that fits the previous criteria, please please pointed it out to me so I can read it.**

**Anyway, I hope this prologue will explain enough how I'm planning to merge both universes (there are more explanations to come, of course) but if you have any question please ask (I'll most likely try to include the answer in the fic). Also, I'm ****hoping**** to manage weekly updates, but we'll see how that goes. I guess it depends on how real life treats me, and how interested people seem in this thing.**

**Finally, I don't have a beta, so any and all mistakes are mine. Sorry.**

**DISCLAIMER (for all chapters): Neither Glee nor White Collar are mine. I just play with them.**

* * *

**Prologue**

When Cooper prepared his grand escape, he just didn't think about Blaine.

He would later realize how bad that spoke about him, but he honestly didn't. I wasn't like at some point his mind wondered "_what would happen with the squirt?"_ and he ignored it. It honest-to-god didn't even _occurred_ him that Blaine was part of the deal, on way or another. He just wanted to get out, leave that backwards town in the middle of nowhere with its backwards people and his backwards parents.

In the future, he would always wonder how he just forgot to think about him. But he was young and stupid, a cocky and daring teenager, and in his mind the only thing that mattered was to _get out_. Leave that awful place and move to a grand city, with interesting people who would match his skills, and situations that would actually be challenging. He didn't have that in Westerville, Ohio, where people were proud to be average and mediocre, and even for teenagers the idea of excitement was either a day in the country club or a night of beers with the boys, and how provincial was that?

No, Cooper wanted adventure, adrenaline. He wanted to get high on doing the impossible.

So he started planning early. He always knew that he'd leave young, but the small part of him that still wanted to play it safe decided to wait until high school graduation. He didn't want to look like he was on his own while being too young anyway. Until then, though, he worked on sharpening the skills he would need in the future.

He took every art class they offered in school, even though most of the time he already knew the content. He signed on workshop no learn to build things, mechanics to understand cars and later other machinery, and almost every language the school offered. He became fluent in French, but also managed to gain a good understanding on Spanish and German, even though he couldn't speak them.

He was passionate about everything in the arts. Painting and sculpture where his forte, but he was also knowledgeable in literature and poetry. He took on everything in with eagerness, spending full afternoons perfecting his paintings and drawings, going over and over his sketching and color-mixing. What he didn't understand though, was how he could miss the tiny tag-along that remained at his side _all the time_.

It didn't really bother him. Even though Blaine was ten years younger and had a bit too much energy, he never interfered in Cooper's business. He found everything _so interesting _and_ fun_, and he'd constantly be asking what is this or that and how does it work? Cooper found out early on that Blaine's endless questioning helped him go over his knowledge, and once or twice he had managed to ask for things that even Cooper hadn't thought of finding out, so overall it was a good excuse to revise.

It was a constant, doing something and having Blaine at his side. Always jumping around him, playing, or asking questions. Sometimes he'd be on the floor doing his homework or reading the random book Cooper had given him to make him shut up so he could concentrate. It was a bit like background noise, the kind you learn to tune out as time goes, like it's part of the ambient. Maybe that was the reason why he didn't realize that by leaving Westerville and his old life, he would also be leaving Blaine.

The first real con in his life was done to his parents. He didn't feel the least bit guilty about it, because it wasn't like he was leaving them homeless or anything. And the way he saw it, they owed it to him for doing such a crappy job in actually _caring_ about him. Cooper had learned to manage everything by himself, mostly because there wasn't anybody else he could count on, except for the few nannies he'd had when he was younger. Later, he'd actually preferred it that way, because it gave him a lot more freedom to do whatever he wanted, and in his mind that was the reason why he insisted to his parents that he could take care of Blaine every day after school without hired help. Another part of him knew that it was mostly so Blaine didn't have to grow up with strangers like he did.

His father was a successful businessman and his mother worked with him some days, and spent time with the ladies of her different clubs the others. They used to take long vacations in Europe almost every year, to which they never took their sons because "they were too young to appreciate it". Cooper knew they had enough money to spare, but he also knew his dad would never support him in doing any of the things he wanted to do. To be fair, he had never even considered college –he could learn anything he needed by himself. But he did need funds, if only to support himself for a few months until he could start getting some income. Or maybe he'd travel for a bit. There were so many possibilities.

It was almost too easy. He pretended to apply for the Economics program at Yale (and seriously, it showed how much his parents didn't know him if they actually believed he'd study economics) and faked the correspondence he "exchanged" with them. The money they asked for his first year of tuition and board was enough to maintain him for a while, and his father gladly wired it to a preset bank account because "it shows that you finally got some sense knocked into your head".

The whole charade was a rush. The detailed planning, the forged letters, his faked enthusiasm over his new school, even the admission essay he had asked his dad to correct. All the backup plans in case his dad checked the information on his own, in case he tried to contact Yale by himself, which he never did. But even if not all his planning was put to use, it felt to him like he was making up for all the boring years he'd had to endure with them. It all worked out perfectly. Too perfectly.

"Aren't you going to take any shoes? I think you'll need shoes more than all those paint brushes," Blaine said from the door. It was the day before his departure, and he was trying to finish packing.

"Yeah, they'll go on the next suitcase, squirt, don't worry," Cooper answered. Maybe he should shut the door, because if his parents saw he was taking all his art supplies with him they'd have a lot more questions than his 9-year-old brother.

"Mom said you can only take two suitcases on the plane, and that's the second one already," Blaine pointed at the already closed one at the other side of the room. "You didn't put any shoes there either."

Cooper cursed a little bit, because he really didn't have space for the damned shoes. He wondered for a bit how long Blaine had been watching without him even realizing. Is not that Blaine _sneaked_ on him, because Cooper could see him if he wanted. He was just so used to the squirt that, well, yeah. Tune out.

"I'll make some room. But you know how much I love my brushes, I can't just leave them." There was a small silence, while Cooper wondered what was less important than his brushes that could make some space.

"Dad says you're going to live on your own because you're a man now." Blaine's voice was small and wavering, which finally snapped Cooper out of his head because he had rarely heard that tone on his brother before. "He says I can't go with you. I asked, but he says I'm too little and I have to stay here."

Blaine was sitting at the side of his door, his arms around his knees making him look impossibly small, his big amber eyes trained on him. And that's when it actually hit him. He was leaving, just like he'd always wanted, but Blaine was staying. He had planned it all to run away and never look back, but Blaine was _staying_.

The realization knocked the air out of him, and for a full minute he couldn't speak. The dread that he felt running through his body was something he'd never experienced before.

"Can I really not go with you?" Blaine asked after a while without an answer from Cooper. "I'm sure there are schools near Yale for me, and I wouldn't bother you or anything. I'd just do my homework and wait for you to get back, and then it'd be same as always."

"I… no, squirt, it doesn't work like that…" Cooper said, although he wasn't sure how to respond. Conning his baby brother felt like the lowest thing he'd ever done.

"Are you sure? Because I think mom and dad would be glad if they don't have to take care of me. They are always busy with work."

Cooper had to fight hard to get out the words to tell Blaine that no, he couldn't go. He would be living in a dorm room where they didn't accept kids, and he was, in fact, too young to leave mom and dad's house. Knowingly telling lies was already a second nature to him, but he'd never had to say one as difficult as telling his brother that it would be ok, that with school starting soon time would just fly by, and he'd have mom and dad at home to keep him company. That lie was the most bitter of them all, because he knew by experience how unlikely that was, and he remembered how big and empty the house had felt, ironically, until Blaine's birth.

He realized it was thanks to his brother that his teenage years hadn't been lonely and rather sad like the previous ones, and for an irrational moment, he thought about calling everything off and staying. How could he leave Blaine to an empty life with parents that didn't care about either of them? But sense came back soon after and he knew he couldn't. There was no way of explaining to his parents that he'd never even applied to Yale and that he had planned to disappear with their money. He could try to keep in contact and pretend he was going to classes in order to keep in touch with Blaine, but he knew that would blow off too soon, and for the life he intended to have, he really shouldn't keep connections. He already had a fake ID with the name Neal Caffrey on it, and he had decided that the moment his plane departed, Cooper Anderson would be no more.

He couldn't sleep that night, but it wasn't excitement what kept him awake. Next day his parents decided it was fitting that they'd all go to the airport to say good bye, and Cooper never felt like more of an asshole than the moment he had to calm down his crying brother by saying he'd keep in touch, and they would be seeing each other on Christmas.


	2. Chapter 1

Hello people! First of all, big thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed the story.

Before getting to it, I want to explain a bit better how both cannons work here. For Glee, almost everything in the show is cannon, with the exception of the Big Brother episode, where Cooper/Neal never shows up. As for White Collar, I had to leave out the fourth season entirely, since Neal's family situation is completely different. BUT all the Nazi treasure thingy is already resolved and the relationship between Peter and Neal is good. Also, Neal's commutation doesn't happen, Kramer doesn't try to ship Neal off to DC, and Ellen never appears.

If you have any other question about it please let me know!

* * *

**Chapter one**

"Hurry up Caffrey, or you're gonna miss all the fun." Peter said as soon as he walked out of the elevator. Neal always wondered how someone could look so perky this early in the morning.

"Looks like someone is having a good day." Neal replied, taking out his fedora and putting it on his desk.

"Oh, you'll like this a lot more than me. It involves free tours to a robbed museum." Peter tossed him a file, which Neal caught easily before opening it.

"Huh, pretty." He commented, his eyes immediately drawn to the photograph in front of everything. It showed a very tasteful piece of jewelry, made of diamonds and sapphires in the shape of a bow. "Must be a bit heavy to wear on your hair."

"It's a brooch." Peter said with an excited voice that Neal started to feel infected by. "56 diamonds and sapphires in that little thing."

"Very art deco. So I'm guessing French, late 1920's?" Neal asked, barely waiting for Peter's nod because he knew he was right. "Does it come from where I think it comes?"

"If you're thinking about the exhibition of French Jewelry that should be opening at the Met in two weeks, then yes."

Neal nodded while he kept looking at the already neatly-ordered information. "If what I've heard from that exhibition is right though, this piece must be from the filler bunch. There's too much offer of similar pieces in the market for it to be valuable as rare."

"So?" Peter asked with a curious face.

"So, why take this when there was chance to take something better? I mean, there is supposed to be bracelets with rubies the size of eggs in that exhibition." Neal explained.

"Maybe they wanted something easy to sell."

"If you want 'easy to sell' you rob jewelry, not a museum." Neal complained. He kind of hated it when the potential for an excellent con was wasted. "This piece… it's tasteful, that I can give. On the other hand, the diamonds are small and so are the sapphires, and even though it belongs to a collection, I don't think you can get more than 30 or 40 grand for this."

"Is that too cheap for the great Neal Caffrey?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm just surprised." Neal replied with an entertained expression. "We deal with million-dollar heists almost every day. Isn't this the kind of thing we try to let the police fix first?"

"Oh, you are so full of yourself." Peter laughed, walking to his office. Neal followed closely, still studying the file.

"We'll keep this on the down-low, but the reason we're taking this is because the Major's wife is part of the sponsors that brought the exhibition." Peter commented once they were both inside and Neal closed the door. "The case doesn't seem to be too complex, but they need it to be solved fast and hopefully without the public finding out. They're afraid that if it gets out the media will involve the Major in it."

"Oh, so there _is_ another reason." Neal said with a knowing smile.

"Shut up and concentrate. It may end up being a simple case, but speed is crucial in this."

"Yeah, yeah, speed is always crucial." He spent another few minutes on the file, while Peter sat on his desk and started reviewing his notes. It was only a minute or two until Neal spoke again.

"Why were the jewels there in the first place?" He asked. "Exhibitions usually don't arrive to their destinations with so much anticipation, just a few days at the most."

"There were problems with the dates of the previous exhibition that made it last a longer, but all the paperwork for these things to travel from France were already done, and you know how difficult that is… so they decided to keep the things locked in the museum until the exhibition date, but nobody was supposed to know." Peter explained. "That's another problem. Because of this, the security around the pieces wasn't as tight as it should have been. If all comes to worst and they have to appeal to the insurance, it will most likely not cover it in this condition."

"A museum filled with super expensive jewelry and defective security?" Neal asked with hungry eyes. "It's like candyland."

"Yeah, I bet it would be for you." Peter grumbled. "But it actually gives us some clues, because only a person from the inside would have this knowledge."

"Or someone who keeps a tag of every move the museum does." Neal replied, which left Peter a bit pensive.

"Is that a thing you would do?" He asked. "Keep observation on a museum just in case something comes up?"

"Well, I wouldn't do it_ myself_. But you could get that information if you have a good source and the right amount of money."

"Well, we can ask around about that later. In the meantime, we'll focus on the details of the theft." Peter signaled Neal to sit down in front of him. He opened his own file and started recounting. "Everything has been there for 5 days already. The night of the theft there was some sort of music gala thing, like a showcase or something like that, which is the way our thief got into the building in the middle of the night."

"Was it an open showcase?" Neal asked.

"No, it was invitation-only, and very exclusive. No other entrance was tampered with, so our felon was actually invited to this." Peter explained. "It's a sort of music talent-scout thing, from what I can gather. Like when a college trainer goes to a high school football game to watch the new talent, except for orchestras. I hear any decent musician would _kill_ to play here, since most directors of the best orchestras in the country attend to it looking for new members."

"Band geeks and music snobs? It doesn't sound like our usual crowd." Neal commented.

"_Exactly_" Peter exclaimed, with a big smile on his face. "Just for the sake of difference, I'm going to _love_ this one."

* * *

The information on the file was straightforward. The jewels had been stored in the first floor, just a stair away from the staff's rooms, where entrance was a bit tricky but not even that difficult, at least to Neal's standards. Actually, he knew right away that the robbery wasn't done by a professional, because they could have _emptied_ the place, if they would have done it right. It kind of disappointed him.

The storage bunker had lacked a lot more security that Peter had told him at first, because they had relied on the supposed "secrecy" of the pieces' location. There weren't nearly as many security cameras as necessary, providing enough blind spots for a person to dodge them almost entirely. Besides that, the room was locked by a code-panel to which password at least nine employees had access to.

They had a guard at the door, but the schedule between shifts at night gave a window of about ten minutes in which there was nobody there. The robbery had been done at that moment, and they had only realized two days later, when the curator had reviewed the pieces and found one missing. Later they found the camera in front of the door had been tampered with, since it was the one that couldn't be avoided.

Overall, Neal just thought they were _very _lucky that the brooch was the only thing stolen. Peter seemed to agree, and Neal could almost hear his frustration over the deficient security system the museum had used.

"Why did they _only_ steal the brooch?" Peter asked, although Neal had already asked that question a few hours ago. "It doesn't make sense. The security was so easy to surpass that I almost feel like telling them they deserved it."

"There's something I never thought I'd hear you say." Neal said, winking at Peter's glare. "The way I see it, there could be two reasons. Either this person was a serious amateur, or the piece itself didn't matter, as long as something got stolen."

"You mean like a message?" Peter wondered. "It would make sense, except we don't know to whom the messages was directed to, or why."

"You've had me doing this before, stealing something just to show they _could_ get robbed." Neal observed.

"A message so they upgrade their security…" Peter didn't seem very convinced, but then, neither was Neil. "If that was the case though, they would have done a much bigger show of it, like leave the door open or take something bigger, things like that. Unless… unless the message is to a person, not the museum…"

"Didn't you say the Major's wife can be tied to it? Maybe the ploy is against her… or against the Major himself, because if his wife gets tied to it, he would as well, and maybe there's some opponent somewhere who would get an upper hand out of it."

Peter considered for a little while. Neal almost wished there was a big political debacle behind all this, because by itself the case could turn to be a bit boring.

"That would make more sense if it was elections time. But we'll keep it in mind anyway. I'll have Diana look into it, talk to them if it's possible. In the meantime, we'll make a little trip to the Met." Peter finished, closing his file and standing up. Neal's eyes lit up.

* * *

While Neal would never begrudge a free pass to a museum, he had to admit the visit to the Met wasn't proving to be all that interesting.

They toured with the security staff and the museum's curator, a middle-aged woman with a stern face and an awful grey suit, while she explained the event of that night and the security they had had running. And while the case lacked the challenge that professional cons usually provided, Peter's exasperated face sort of made up for it.

"So you're telling me that the stairs that gave entrance from the staff rooms to the storage floor wasn't guarded at all." Peter said with evident disapproval. "Not even while you knew that a bunch of college kids would be coming and going near it, and it would be possible for someone to get in."

"They weren't all college kids. Some of them have graduated several years ago." Said Joanna, the curator, like that made any difference. "Besides, there were cameras all around the area. And there _were_ staff members accompanying the performers while they were backstage and in their short walk to the stage. They were all performing at the time of the robbery. None of them could have had the chance to do it."

"There weren't nearly enough cameras. But if it wasn't one of the musicians, then it was either one of the guests or someone from your staff." Neal pointed out.

"Mr. Caffrey, I understand everyone is a suspect, but I can assure you I have complete faith in all of our employees. We can't stop you from investigating them, of course, but I think it's more likely this was done by someone from the outside."

"I guess it's entirely possible that someone from the outside got in using the staff door that _also_ wasn't guarded." Neal pointed out. Joanna pursed her lips.

"How do you explain the fact that the thief knew the security code for the bunker, if it wasn't thanks to someone from your staff?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow. Neal sort of liked it when Peter was unimpressed with someone who wasn't him. "With that in mind, we have to turn to them first in our investigation."

"They were all otherwise occupied at the moment." Joanna replied without missing a beat. Neal almost started suspecting _her_, but it would be too easy. "Even the security guards can be placed away from the place thanks to the security cameras. It wasn't one of ours, I can assure you that."

"Interesting how you insist to point out how _even your security guards _weren't there while you got robbed." Peter commented sarcastically. "And I think _we_ will be the ones to decide who's a suspect and who isn't. Until then, I need all the security footage of that night including the tampered tape, and a list of every single person who had attended the gala, be it musician, guest or employee."

"I'll have that ready for you before you leave." The curator said with a fake smile. They had arrived to the bunker, and she busied herself in opening it for them. Neal smiled widely. _This_ would make the whole trip entirely worth it.

Even though everything was neatly packed, Neal could see there was an enormous fortune around him. The collection showed French jewelry through history, some pieces as old as 300 years, and many of them previously owned by royalty. It wasn't very difficult to see which pieces were the more expensive either, if size was anything to go by. Those rubies in the bracelet at the corner _actually _looked the size of eggs…

"The brooch was kept here," the curator announced promptly, pointing to the left wall. A bunch of boxes made a hallway of sorts, and at the very end of it there was a small, opened box. "Of course the box was left closed, so it took me a couple of days to realize there was something missing. At the beginning I thought it was surely a misunderstanding, but our providers in Paris insisted everything had been sent properly, and the insurance papers certified as much. Then we found the tampered camera, and you know the rest."

Neal surveyed the place. It was quite obvious that the thief had chosen a piece that was mostly hidden, surely with the purpose that the theft wouldn't be found for a while. The whole thing was so very amateur he wouldn't be surprised if they happened to find the fingerprints of the thief in that box. Sure enough, Peter was already taking it as evidence while the rest of the team looked for fingerprints on the door handle and the security panel.

"And you are sure that nothing else is missing?" Peter asked.

"Of course, we made sure to check every other box twice, especially with the bigger pieces. Everything is in place." Joanna answered.

"Is there anything special about that brooch?" Neal asked curiously.

"Not that I can think of." She replied. "I mean, it _is_ made of diamonds and sapphires, and the fact that it belongs to this collection would probably raise its price to around forty or fifty thousand dollars. But apart from that…"

"It didn't belong to someone famous or anything? Didn't have an obscure past of family heirlooms?" Peter offered. Joanna shook her head.

"As far as I'm aware, it was purchased by a wealthy Parisian family to a distinguished jewel designer back in the 1930's. About six years ago the last descendant sold it in an auction along with several other pieces, many of them a lot more valuable. This one sort of came in the package."

Peter nodded. He made one last round through the room, and left in silence. Neal followed closely.

"What do you think?" Peter asked while they waited for Joanna to bring the tapes before they left.

"I don't think I've seen such an amateur job since I started working with you." Neal answered truthfully. "And the people here are annoying. It's almost as if they were making us a favor in letting us help."

"Do you think they were involved? This Joanna woman seems a bit dodgy to me."

"Well, I don't like her. But I somehow doubt she was involved…"

"Then we'll just have to do things the hard way, won't we?" Peter smiled. "There's several hours of footage to go through, dozens of backgrounds and alibis to check… I'll even let you choose which you want to do."

Neal groaned.

* * *

It may have been an amateur theft, but once they started digging, they realized it was surprisingly well-done. Neal wasn't sure if it was on purpose or sheer dumb luck, but the fact that the entrance to the bunker was so easy made it really hard to cut down suspects.

"It's true that all the employees can be located in other places at the estimated time of the robbery, but even that time is _estimated_. The camera was tampered with at 9:06 pm, but remained so for the rest of the night. The guard-switch window happened from 9:10 to 9:20, but we can't be sure it was done in those 10 minutes the museum staff suspects." Peter explained to the team.

"But the security guard was there the rest of the night." Diana pointed out.

"Yes. So we can conclude it _did _happen at that window of time as long as we can prove neither security guard was involved on the theft. As much as this could be a one-man job, there's a big chance there's more than one person involved. My guess is someone from the staff, with access to the security code, allied to someone who had a better chance to do the dirty work. I may very well be one of the guests, but I wouldn't overlook the musicians just yet. They prepared for the gala on the rooms just below the bunker for about an hour before our window of time and barely left for the stage before it… but our window isn't conclusive, so maybe one of them had the time to do a quick visit before going to perform."

"So pretty much anyone could have done it, or several people, at any moment." Jones commented. "We usually have a lot more to go with…"

"At least we can be sure this wasn't done by a professional" Neal said. "As much as it pains me, I don't think this person even knew what they were stealing. They just took something small that wouldn't be missed too quickly, and made a run with it. They didn't need any special skill apart from being in the right place at the right time, so it could have been anyone."

"I never thought that lack skill in robbery would turn out to be a problem for us." Jones said.

"That's why our first task is to confirm the alibi and background of our security guards. If we can do that, we'll confirm our time window, and that will make things a lot easier." Peter explained. "The guys are coming in for questioning in half an hour, and I've already checked their backgrounds. Hopefully we'll have our answer soon after. In the meantime, Jones, I want you on the security footage. Maybe our thief missed one of the blind-spots. Diana, I want you checking the background and alibis of the museum staff. See if there's anything dodgy about any of them, debt, sick relatives, weird behavior in the recent time, anything, especially those with access to the code, even if they weren't on the museum that night. Neal, you'll check the background of the guests, see if anything rings a bell in motives or connections. I'll check on the musicians after I'm done with these guys. We'll regroup before the day is over to see what progress we've made."

Like a well-oiled machine, everyone left to work on their assignments. And while the case was proving to be boring and tedious, at least Neal could enjoy the feelings of purpose and belonging.

"This is ridiculous" Neal complained, putting down the file he had been reading. "Almost everyone in this list could have done it, seeing that the only requirement for it is decent body mobility."

"Come on, it can't be that bad." Jones commented from his side of the room. He had spent the last three hours watching closely to the mute security tapes, and although he wouldn't say anything, Neal could see he was also getting tired. "You of all people should be able to recognize a real suspect."

"_Professional_ suspects." Neal pointed out. "Those I would find in a heartbeat. A random person with good luck? That information doesn't come on federal records."

Jones chuckled, taking out yet another tape to watch. "You can't tell me you haven't narrowed it down at least a bit."

"Well, I've discarded anyone either too old, handicapped, or too snob."

"Too snob?" Jones asked, amused.

"That's the most helpful one, actually. Lots of snobs in attendance. People of society, old money, benefactors and so on. Anyone with minimum knowledge of the fortune in that room would've taken something else. I mean, even if the target was a small piece that wouldn't be missed too soon, there were things far more interesting than that brooch. Pendants that belonged to royalty or nobility, some pearls with war history between African countries, or even just things the same size but twice as expensive…"

"Yeah, ok, I get it." Jones replied. "But I mean, that thing is still worth forty grand. That's not pocket change."

"That's why we're looking for someone who's more interested in the money than historic value." Neal explained, his face scrunched in distaste. He could see Jones rolling his eyes, but ignored him.

They spent another half an hour in silence, each one immersed in their tasks, before Jones broke the silence again.

"Caffrey, mind checking this out with me?" He asked, making Neal stand immediately to get closer. Anything to escape his insufferable task. "This camera recorded the main room, so we can see the stage and the guests" Jones explained, showing Neal the screen. The camera had a panoramic view, which made it a bit difficult to distinguish the people in it, but allowed to watch everyone at the same time.

"Ok, what am I looking for?" Neal asked. The screen showed the hour 8:43 pm, and while most of the guests were already sitting in their places, the stage was still empty. The showcase had been meant to start at 9pm on the dot.

"Right here, on the top-left." Jones explained. "It can't be seen on the screen, but about 30 feet in that direction is the door that leads to the staff rooms, the one that wasn't guarded."

They remained silent while tape kept playing. Soon enough, Neal noticed a figure walking into the room from the main doors, directly to that corner. It was a man, although the clothes looked rather feminine. He walked quickly and purposely, but looking around several times, like checking that nobody would see him. Later he disappeared in the place Jones had mentioned.

"I checked the next ten minutes, but he doesn't come back out." Jones commented.

"Is the bathroom in that direction?" Neal asked, although he already knew the answer. Jones wouldn't point it out if it didn't seem promising.

"The bathrooms are exactly on the opposite direction." Jones answered. "There's nothing else here apart from the staff rooms."

"It's also unlikely it's a musician running late. It's too close to the showcase time." Neal added. Jones shook his head.

"The musicians got in through the staff entrance an hour before. They have cameras and paper records of _only_ the musicians using it though, and at least this time there _was_ a security guard at all times, so we are sure nobody else got in using it. If the thief is someone from the guests, they had to use this door."

"Ok, ok that could lead us to something." Neal commented with excitement. This was the part where he usually started liking the cases. "Can't you go back to when he's on screen? If we can identify him, I can check his records."

Jones returned the tape to the guy walking down the room. They repeated it a couple of times, until they found a good shot of the guy, in a moment he turns around to see if anyone is looking at him. It wasn't very clear because of the distance, but it was the best they could get.

"I'd bet anything that this guy isn't past his twenties." Jones said. "That narrows the search at least two thirds."

"Is he wearing a corset?" Neal asked, amused. He liked this guy already, even if he sort of failed at passing unnoticed.

"Isn't it a vest?" Jones replied, a little put out.

"Definitely a corset." Neal smiled. Even if he preferred a more classic look, he admired boldness. Besides, if you wanted to make it in the con world, you needed a streak of creativity. "I think I know who he is. I'm sure not many men can achieve that hairstyle."

Neal jumped to his seat, looking into the records he had been studying for the past hours. He was sure this guy had actually been one of the first he had checked. Sure enough, he found it at the very end of his growing pile of folders. He opened it, bringing up a picture of a pale guy with perfectly coiffed brown hair.

"Jones, meet Kurt Hummel."


	3. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! How are you holding up after yesterday's new ep? **

**Here's a new chapter for you all. I wanted some help though, I wanted to make sure the developing of the case is clear enough? If you find something confusing or hard to follow, please let me know so I can find a way to make it better. Also, overall feedback is always welcome and cherished. **

**That's all. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

It took a while of Neal contacting the research interns, but by the time Peter called them in, Neal had all the information available about one Kurt Hummel. There was nothing even ambiguous on his record, but Neal had a strong feeling about this kid.

"We can confirm the previous timeline. The security guards were convincing enough." Peter said without explaining further. Nobody asked either. They knew Peter would make absolutely sure. "So that gives us a lot more certainty to work with. I haven't had time to check on the musicians, but I'll take it home to have it ready for tomorrow. So, we got anything?"

"We have an interesting lead," Neal said smiling, taking out the file he had just prepared. "Kurt Hummel, recent graduate of the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts. Apparently he had business in the staff rooms just before the concert started." He nodded to Jones, who played the tape of Kurt walking into the main room, and stopping it when he disappeared from it.

"You can't see him actually passing through the door, but it's the only thing in that direction." Jones explained. "That happened at 8:43 pm. We thought he could be sneaking in to wish good luck to a friend or relative, but the musicians leave for the stage at 9:04, and Mr. Hummel doesn't leave until 9:21." He fast forwarded the tape through the orchestra, all clad in tuxedos and formal dresses, walking from the corner into the stage and starting the showcase. In the middle of what looked like a strings piece, at exactly 9:21 like Jones had said, the tall figure of Kurt Hummel appeared on the corner and walked quickly to a seat in the back.

"He stays there through the whole concert," Jones added, "he even goes to the cocktail party that was hosted afterwards with all the other guests, but I haven't had time to see how long he stays or what else he does. There's another two tapes from the room where the cocktail happened, but I was about to get into that before you called…"

"That's ok, you can finish with the tapes tomorrow." Peter conceded. It was already running late, and Neal figured Peter was tired as well. "Neal, how did you do with the guests?"

"Well, I got all the information I could find about that Hummel kid." Neal started. "Originally from Ohio, came to New York after graduation to study drama. He has records of working for Vogue on a part-time internship until last year. If his schools records are accurate, he got casted in an off-Broadway play just before graduating, so he's now on full-time rehearsals. Financially he seems stable, although his credit card shows a rather expensive taste for a college student."

"Does he have any link to a person in the museum? Or any reason why he would want that money?" Peter asked.

"Nothing obvious. But here comes the interesting part: He managed to get himself invited to the showcase literally the same day it was done, very last minute. I haven't found how he did it yet, but it could be a well-placed connection on the inside, right?"

"Hmmm… we can ask the museum staff when we interview them. We'll keep a tag on this guy, see what he was up too. What about the others? Anything else come up?"

"Aw, come on Peter, we have our suspect!" Neal complained. Sometimes he hated Peter's throughout approach in cases. It meant a lot more paperwork and it delayed his fun.

"Should I assume you didn't finish, then?" Peter asked, unimpressed.

"I have about a dozen left." Neal muttered.

"I expect that you're finished by tomorrow morning, then." Peter replied, before turning his attention to Diana. "Anything from the staff?"

"We have bad news, actually." Diana sighed. "Apart from the fact that all the employees that night have very solid alibis, turns out the access to the security code of the bunker is a lot easier to get than we initially thought. I wanted to know how these people get the code, to see if it could be intercepted without them knowing. They have usernames to the museum's intranet, to which you can only access from their computers, and whoever has enough credentials on the inside has access to the code from there. But the employees choose their passwords when they start working, and changing it regularly is not mandatory, which means-"

"Which means that anyone with the right username and password would have access to the code." Peter finished. "The thief didn't even need someone from the inside as an accomplice, only their intranet sing-up information." He sighed as well, dropping his head lightly. "Ok, that will make things more complicated. Diana, we'll need to schedule interviews with the employees who have access to the code. Hopefully we can do them all tomorrow. We also need to find out when the code was changed the last time and check with their tech service about everyone who accessed it since."

"I'm guessing the code was changed when the jewelry arrived, but even so, if I had done it, I wouldn't leave it to chance, I would check on that code right before going for it, or no more than a couple of hours before." Neal opined.

"Okay, we'll focus on the day on the theft, but I want all the information available just in case. That'll be all for now."

Even if he had homework, Neal was relieved to be done for the day. He would have to plan a little something to help things move along.

* * *

Next morning Neal made sure to leave extra early so he could walk to work, maybe stop for coffee on the way. The fact that June had the best Italian roast in Manhattan didn't really mean he couldn't adventure outside for his morning caffeine, and if he happened to find a place to do that _just_ outside of the theatre where Kurt Hummel was rehearsing, that was just a happy coincidence.

The place was busy, and Neal was surprised to find that the quality of his long drip wasn't bad at all. He still had enough time to sit and relax for a while, and what better place to do that than the little tables outside, which happened to give a perfect view of the theatre entrance? He found them all taken, but when he recognized certain coiffed hairstyle in one of them, he knew it was fate.

Kurt was busy on his phone, so he didn't register Neal getting closer. He was dressed rather simply with dark jeans, a grey shirt and a burgundy scarf, which was bit of a disappointment after seeing him clad in a black corset, but Neal guessed the guy couldn't dress as eclectically in everyday life. When he got closer though, he noticed a small, pearl-shaped pin that held the knot in his scarf, which gave the look a relaxed elegance and yeah, this is more what he expected of the guy.

"Would you mind if I sit here?" Neal asked, using his most charming smile. "All the tables are taken and the day is too nice to sit inside."

Kurt didn't seem to fall for his smile right away, which was a bit bothersome, but he was polite enough. "Sure, no problem." He said, before going back to his phone and ignoring Neal. Ah, a challenge.

Neal sat down, and sipped his coffee while Kurt typed quickly on his phone. He didn't want to seem annoying, so he waited until Kurt was done with it before trying to start a conversation.

"Long day ahead, eh?" He asked, trying again his charming smile. Kurt looked at him strangely, so Neal elaborated. "Sorry, that's just _a lot_ of coffee in there" he said, pointing to the surely extra-large beverage Kurt had in front of him. "Are you powering up?"

That finally got a smile from Kurt, even if it was a small one. "It's been a long week, and it'll only get busier." He replied.

"School or work?" Neal asked conversationally, after all Kurt was young enough to be still in college.

"Um, work, I guess, although it's a bit weird to think about it like that." Kurt answered, and Neal congratulated himself because the guy finally seemed engaged. "I'm rehearsing for my first real role in a play, but I've been going to auditions since _forever_, so I guess now it still feels too wonderful to think of it as a job."

"Well, congratulations on your role" Neal continued. He rather liked the passionate way Kurt spoke about it. "I always thought in another life I may have been an actor myself. I kind of like the drama of it."

"Well, you'd certainly have an easier time finding roles than me," Kurt commented, and Neal wasn't sure if he sounded bitter or not. "You definitely look the part."

"Things worked out differently for me." Neal wasn't sure if Kurt's last comment counted as flirting. I wouldn't be the first time he flirted with a guy to get an upper hand, but Kurt was just too young for it to feel comfortable. "I'm Neal, by the way."

"Kurt," the younger man replied, and Neal could feel him relaxing into the conversation. "So, Neal, what do you do, if you aren't a big Hollywood star?"

"I'm an artist." Neal replied swiftly. "A painter, to be more specific, although I like to do a bit of everything."

"Really?" Kurt asked, looking pretty surprised. "You don't look the artistic type."

"Why not?" Neal asked, taken aback.

"You are wearing vintage Sy Devore," Kurt answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If I had enough money to own a suit like that, the last thing I would do is get it near fresh paint."

That actually made Neal laugh, and he decided he _really_ liked this kid. He wondered if they could become friends, and then he'd have a guy who could hold a decent conversation about male fashion. If he didn't turn out to be the thief they were looking for, of course.

"Painters are usually more… bohemian, I guess," Kurt continued. "You look more like those Wall Street guys who make million-dollar investments before lunch."

Neal didn't know if that was a compliment or not, but Kurt didn't seem to say it in a bad way.

"I consult a lot," He explained. "Mostly authentications in galleries or insurance companies, and those demand higher fashion if you want to be taken seriously." No need to mention the FBI was his everyday client.

"Wow, you must be a big deal, then," Kurt said, looking impressed. "Art is always a very hard field to be considered an expert in."

"I get by," Neal answered, deciding this was going well enough to try to get into the topic he really cared about. "I could do better in the fashion side, though. That thing you did with the pin and the scarf looks really good" He said, pointing at Kurt's neck.

"It's actually one of my simplest outfits, but thank you," Kurt said, a pleased smile on his lips. "I usually accessorize more, but I'm about to move and it makes it really hard to find things, even when I'm quite organized with my wardrobe."

"Moving?" Neal asked, interested. "Found a bigger place?"

"A bit smaller, actually, but it's in Manhattan. Considering I'm living in Bushwick right now, I'd say I'm still upgrading." Kurt said.

"You'd be right," Neal agreed. "But now you're making me wonder about your non-simple outfits…" he said, hoping he didn't seem too crass in returning to that topic.

"Oh, they involves a lot more layers," Kurt said with an amused smile. "And bigger accessories, I guess. The right pin or brooch can complete a look beautifully."

"You really know a lot about this."

"Well, I did work for vogue for several years" Kurt said, flattered, "but a lot of my knowledge can't be put into practice because it requires a big budget. I mean, I would do wonders with things from Tiffany or Roman Paul, but I have to settle for the cheaper stuff..."

"Maybe in the future," Neal said, deciding it was time for the big guns. "You know, there's going to be a jewelry exhibition on the Met soon, maybe we can go together? Then I'd get to see what complete Kurt-outfit looks like."

Wink while he said the last part was probably a mistake. The change in Kurt's demeanor was so obvious Neal would have seen it even if he wasn't watching so closely. Kurt's relaxed smile became strained, and he seemed to straighten up on his chair.

"That's nice of you, but I already have plans to go to that exhibition with someone else." He said. "With my boyfriend, actually." He added promptly, taking this paper cup for a long drink.

"Oh, okay," Neal replied, cursing himself for choosing the wrong words. He hadn't intended to ask him out so much as to see his reaction to the mention of the museum. Now he couldn't be sure which one had caused Kurt's discomfort. The boyfriend thing sounded a bit like an excuse. "I just wanted to discuss accessories with someone who really knows about it, maybe learn a thing or two." He added, trying to fix his mistake.

"Neal, your tie matches your Mulberry cufflinks. I don't think you need much help." Kurt said, standing up. "I should go now, before I'm late." He took his phone, satchel and paper cup, and paused for another second. "It was nice meeting you." He said finally.

"Likewise. Have a nice rehearsal." Neal replied. Kurt nodded and walked away, disappearing half a minute later on the theatre doors.

* * *

The talk with Kurt made him a bit late to work, but luckily nobody noticed. The office was a bit of a mess, since apparently all of the museum's employees were there in order to be questioned. Seeing that Peter had asked for it when the previous day was almost over, Neal always wondered how Diana managed to get everything arranged so quickly. He suspected she was just too good at knowing Peter's mind, so she had it done before he even asked.

"Agent Burke asked me to give you this as soon as you got here," one of their interns told him, giving him a folder. "It's the people from the museum you have to interview. Everyone's doing individuals because agent Hughes wants all these people to be gone before lunch."

"Okay, this is new," commented Neal, taking the folder. The intern shrugged.

"The room on the far right is free, and the people are waiting on the break room. Agent Burke said to tell him right away if you get a lead, and that you need to fill out a report when you're finished. He also said you got only guys so you would behave while unsupervised."

Neal thought it was ironic, seeing that flirting with guys was apparently his thing too, even if he didn't mean to.

There were four people on his list, so he got on the interviews right away. They were mostly boring and didn't lead anywhere, with the notable exception of one of the guides, who was an enthusiast of Russian constructivism and knew more about the topic than anyone Neal had ever met. The talk with him was really nice.

On the other hand, this sort of break gave him time to think about how he'd tell Peter about seeing Kurt that morning. Peter kind of hated it when Neal did things without telling him first, but really, how did he expected Neal to tell him if he knew the answer would be no?

The problem was, this time he wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to meet the kid. He was an interesting guy, sophisticated, and Neal could see in him the kind of spark a con would need, even for a beginner. On the other hand, he didn't get anything in terms of the case. Kurt _had_ gotten uncomfortable when he told him about the museum, but it could be that Neal had been too flirtingly forward.

And if Neal was honest, it was a bit off-putting to have his charms rejected.

* * *

"The service provider for the museum's intranet sent the information for that day." Peter started. The team was back together after a morning of interviews and a scattered lunch. "As Caffrey suggested, the code was accessed closely before the robbery, at exactly 8:38 that evening. The good news is they could trace the IP address back to the computer that was used to access it. The bad news is the owner of the computer has been enjoying her honeymoon in Brazil the last ten days, so we know it wasn't her."

"But then it's a person who had access to her office and to sing-up information," Neal said.

"Not necessarily," replied Peter. "While they can confirm the IP address, apparently the system doesn't record _which_ username was used to login, so it could be any other username _through_ that computer. Also, this office was one of the closest to the staff rooms, so it could have been used just out of convenience. What _is_ noteworthy is that the office was locked, so this person either had access to the key, or knows how to pick up locks."

"Maybe she did give the information and the key to an accomplice", Neal said. "Being away is a great alibi."

"We still can't prove anything if we don't find the accomplice." Peter sighed. "I spoke to security and they say one of the cameras was almost in front of that office. Jones, I'll need you to check on that again."

"You got it, boss," replied Jones.

"Why are we not investigating Kurt Hummel?" Neal asked. Usually the first lead that came up was the one they would follow. "We have him on tape entering a place where he shouldn't be."

"We don't have anything to tie him to someone from the museum, and there's no way he could do it by himself. I did read his file, and I find it hard to believe our best bet is drama student without so much as traffic ticket." Peter explained, although Neal could see he was starting to get frustrated too. He wanted to comment that Kurt was apparently moving, which could be a decent reason for needing some extra cash, but decided it wasn't the right moment. "I did ask the museum's event planner how he got his invitation to go to the showcase so last minute. Apparently the band director called her and asked her to put him on the list as a favor, so I guess it's time to turn to the band…"

The meeting finished soon after. Diana and Jones had to leave to oversee the closure of a mortgage case they've been working on for weeks, but luckily Neal hadn't been involved in it (oh, how he hated mortgages cases…). He decided to help Peter while he background-checked the musicians, mostly to try and relax things a bit. He needed Peter in a fairly good mood to tell him about Kurt.

"If someone from the band is involved, we'd have to think about the possibility of a three-man job. They were all on stage while the brooch was stolen, but they had the best chance to get the code. They would also need a contact on the inside to get the login information, and someone to actually steal the thing…" Peter said. He liked to think out loud when figuring out cases.

"You don't involve three men for such a little money. It's too risky." Neal commented. "I mean, like the curator said, best case scenario they get to sell it on what, fifty grand? That's around seventeen grand each, not nearly enough for any self-respecting professional."

"Hadn't we agreed this wasn't done by a professional?" Peter asked.

"Okay, so maybe it was done by college kids, it's still too much risk for too little money. I mean, seventeen grand doesn't even cover student loans. And if they did it out of desperation because of a debt or something, it would come up on our records…" Neal argued.

"I've had our contacts checking if something like the brooch comes up in the black market, but like you said, the piece is almost too generic to cause any big impression. I was hoping you could ask Mozzie to have an eye out for it, too."

"I told him about it last night. He actually thinks it was very smart, stealing something that on the big leagues would go unnoticed, but still gives you a decent flow of cash."

"I hope he isn't getting any ideas…" Peter muttered.

"He also thought it may not resurface right away, because they would need for the theft to go public if they want to sell it at the best price. The most expensive side of the brooch is that it belongs to the collection, so they would need the buyers to know it's real and available."

"And that's exactly what we need to avoid. I will have a lot of important people _very _unhappy with us if the news of the theft goes out."

There was a moment of silence while they went back to the files, except Neal wasn't paying any attention to it, an idea suddenly hitting him. Maybe they were too focused on the money. Maybe, this person didn't intend to sell this brooch at all. Neal took the brooch's picture again, remembering his first impression over it. Pretty and tasteful, but overall inexpensive. Except what if the money wasn't exactly what the thief was after?

"Maybe we're too set on the idea of the money," Neal mused. "Maybe this is a collector theft."

"You mean this person is planning to keep it?" Peter asked.

"Well, think about it, if money was the goal, they would've stolen something a lot more expensive. If the goal was giving a message like we thought before, something about that _would _have come up by now. But if this person just _liked _it… this isn't the kind of thing everyone could afford. Maybe this person stole it to keep it, because it was the only way they could own a thing like this." Neal suddenly had a vision of Kurt wearing some artfully gathered outfit, with the focus point on the diamond and sapphire bow brooch, and a proud smile on his face because he _knew _he looked amazing. Neal may not really know Kurt Hummel, but it felt exactly like the kind of thing he would do.

"That… actually makes a lot of sense," Peter said, although his sight was on one of his files. "Tell me, if you learned about the jewelry arrival at the museum, how long would it take you to plan the con?"

"Umm… this was a simple one, so a couple of hours at the most, plus a recognizance trip to the museum," Neal answered, curious about the question. "Why?"

"Well, looks like your drama kid isn't the only one who got himself invited to the showcase on the last minute…" Peter said, passing the file to him.

Neal only managed to read that the file belonged to the pianist, before his eyes were drawn to the picture of the boy. His heart stopped at the exact moment he recognized those amber eyes.


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello guys and girls! Here's a nice new chapter for all of you. It got rather long, but that's always a good thing.**

**Anyway, I figured it was important to know about Neal and Blaine's past in order to set the mood for the upcoming chapters, so this is all a big flashback. Or more like several flashbacks. ****Writing some of them was like pulling teeth, so please be nice and let me know what you think of it.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_After arriving to the airport in New Heaven, the first thing to do was ditching his old identity and starting a new one. That was as easy as dumping his license on the trashcan and taking out the one he had gotten a couple of months ago. It had taken him several trips to Columbus, but he had finally gotten a perfect ID with the name of Neal Caffrey, from St. Louis, Missouri, complete with a social security number and a high school diploma. Just like that, Cooper Anderson ceased to exist. _

_He figured he should go as far away from the place he was supposed to be as possible, so he bought a ticket to Los Angeles. If all else failed, his good looks could surely make him a Hollywood star. The only problem with that was the disadvantage of managing a public life._

_Even so, in LA the easiest part to play was that of a starving young actor. He managed to rent a tiny room in Compton, and just for the heck of it he signed up for acting classes at the community theatre. It wasn't a complete waste of time, because soon enough the lessons about improvisation came very handy. He also met Claire, an adorable high school senior student who was his first sort of real girlfriend and the first lesson that having a relationship while on the run was a bad idea._

_He dedicated his first months to get a hang of the city, what places to go, what contacts where the best. He practiced how to pick pockets every day on the Hollywood Walk of Fame just because he liked the irony of it, learned how to charm his way to a free meal at the best restaurants in Santa Monica, but mostly he learned to _act _wealthy. Appearance was everything, and although he had grown up in an upper-middle class family, it was nothing compared to what he found here. He learned how to distinguish the snobs from the wannabes, the new money from the old money, the truly rich from the posers. He learned how to act all of them._

_When his "relationship" with Claire went to the rocks because of his lack of shearing, he decided he had enough from LA. He moved to San Francisco for a while, enjoying the liberal and eclectic atmosphere of the city. From there he moved to Las Vegas, where casinos became his best teacher. His poker face became perfect, he learned to cheat in almost every card game known to mankind, and became acquainted with the dodgiest men he ever met. That part wasn't so great when Neal discovered he hated violence, having had to face it once or twice. He became an enemy of guns, but learned how to shoot one just in case._

_He learned to hide any kind of objects in his body and clothes. He learned how to take them out and back in without anyone noticing. He also learned the best ways to dodge security cameras. After managing to con ten grand from a poker game at the Bellagio he decided he was done, and moved east._

_He travelled by land, stopping every time he felt like it and staying anywhere as long as he wanted. He perfected his Spanish in New Mexico and learned how to open safe boxes in Denver. He learned that every little town in the country usually had a Big Man, aka a person who was the richest and most influential, and he conned his way through most of them. He learned that crushing on the Big Man's daughter was usually a bad idea, except if the girl was a rebel, in which case it was the most fun. He even learned that having a pretty face was not always on his best interest, and if you meant to hit hatch through the country, better to do it only in family cars, or in broad daylight through well-transited roads. After that time though, he preferred to just buy a bus ticket to the next city._

_Eventually he found himself back in Ohio, where thanks to a contact he got a job in Columbus, where he stayed a couple of weeks and learned about working on a team. It was so weird to be close to home, yet so far away. By this time almost three years had passed, and he was a completely different person. But no matter how much he had avoided thinking about Blaine in that time, he couldn't lose the opportunity to see his brother. _

_He rented a car and drove to Westerville as soon as the job was done. He got there in less than an hour, and made it through the familiar roads to the house where he had grown up. He parked a few streets over and walked the rest of the way, marveling at how he could be so different yet this town was exactly the same. In the Anderson house the doormat had changed, but apart from that everything was exactly as he remembered it. _

_It was barely midday on a Tuesday, so obviously there wasn't anybody home. He picked the lock on the back door even though the spare key would probably still be below the flowerpot, and entered the Anderson house for the first time in three years. On the inside only the curtains had changed._

_It was like stepping into Twilight Zone, and Neal felt his skin prickle. The last time he was here his name had still been Cooper Anderson, but that guy didn't exist anymore, and not only because his ID had been destroyed. _

_He couldn't help but go to his old room, and it weirded him out that it was similar and different at the same time. The bed and furniture were the same, but all his personal belongings had been removed. His books and posters were gone and his replica of Botticelli's _Primavera_, which had been his final art project on junior year,_ _was not hanging on the wall anymore._

_So his family had forgotten him and moved on. Well, he had stolen more than forty thousand dollars from them and left without a word, so he guessed he deserved it, but it still stung._

_Feeling uncomfortable and out of place, Neal left the house to hide in the neighbor's yard, waiting for his brother. He waited for more than two hours, but his nerves made it seem a lot less. He kept imagining Blaine somehow figuring out he was there, and confronting him with shouts and tears. The memory of Blaine crying for him at the airport still made him sick._

_But when Blaine actually came to view, things couldn't be more different. Blaine wasn't a tiny kid with too big eyes and a mop of curls anymore. He was still tiny for his age, but somehow he didn't look like a kid. He walked like a small adult, his hair now short and gelled to his head, and Neal thought no eleven-year-old should look so… solemn._

_Practicing his speed and agility, Neal managed to follow Blaine's movements through the windows after he got home. Not that it was very difficult, because Blaine's steps were slow and relaxed, like it was a routine he followed every day, which Neal supposed it was. He disappeared for a little while up the stairs, and reappeared ten minutes later wearing looser pants and carrying a couple of books. He made himself a sandwich and ate it while doing his homework, cleaned after himself when he was done, and watched some TV until the doorbell startled both him and Neal. It was Mr. Jameson, who apparently still was Blaine's piano instructor, and Neal listened while his little brother tried to master Tchaikovsky. He had gotten _good_, and Neal wondered why he never sat through a piano lesson with his brother when they still lived together. His Blainey had quite the talent._

_Neal wondered about just how many things he had missed in his teenage mad race to learn anything he could before escaping. He wondered how much more he had lost now that he was gone. An hour later Mr. Jameson left, but Blaine remained practicing on the piano until it was dark outside. For the best part of two hours a somewhat sloppy version of Swan Lake was all that could be heard, and although it meant the house was no longer in silence, Neal felt like crying._

_He escaped to the closest Starbucks for a while, and although he had barely eaten all day, the idea of food made him nauseous. He got the largest coffee there was, and sipped it until he managed to calm himself. _

_He went back to the house to find it in silence again, the driveway still missing his parent's cars. The down floor was now dark, and the only light came through Blaine's window. Why the hell had Blaine spent the whole day by himself? Even when Neal was that age he had had a nanny, although to be fair, at that moment there was also one-year-old Blaine to take care of. But even if Blaine seemed to be responsible and behave twice his age, he didn't deserve to spend the whole day on his own. Neal hadn't seen him smile even once, but of course, there was nobody to smile to._

_Furious, Neal left for his hotel back in Columbus, his mind racing. Blaine deserved better. He deserved someone who cared about him. Had he really expected their parents would be any different to him than what they had been to Neal? Because Neal remembered spending entire weeks without seeing them, but he had had his baby brother to keep him company. Now, without meaning to, he was forcing Blaine to grow up alone. And even if he seemed to be doing a lot better than Neal could ever hope, it wasn't fair. Neal was ashamed, but he planned to fix it. He would take Blaine with him if he had to._

_The next day when he got to the Anderson house, his mind was on the con. He had never done something like this and he wasn't sure how to prepare, but he had made his mind, and he had enough money to support both of them for a while. Still, would Blaine want to scape with him? Would he even recognize him? How long would it take their parents to find out? How hard would they try to find them? Would they know it was Neal (Cooper, in their minds) who took him? Neal needed to observe and plan._

_Blaine was back from school at the same time as the previous day, still carrying a backpack that looked bigger than him, still wearing the face of a tiny adult. This time he ate an apple while he did homework, and when Mr. Jameson showed up, he played Beethoven instead of Tchaikovsky. Unlike yesterday, when he said goodbye to Mr. Jameson his voice was cheerful, and once he was alone, instead of going back to the piano, he hummed his way to the kitchen._

_Neal watched somewhat in awe as Blaine stepped on a stool to reach the sink better, and started to wash some vegetables. Then he took a knife and started chopping them with such an attention and precision Neal forgot an eleven-year-old shouldn't even use a knife. Blaine kept humming the whole time, jumping from Beethoven to what seemed to be Britney Spears and back, and Neal was so enthralled watching him we would've missed the sound of the engine turning off in front of the house if Blaine hadn't jumped from the stool, racing to the front door._

_"Blaine! Baby, I'm home!" Came the sound of his mother's voice, and Neal had tears in his eyes before he knew it. It was unsettling to realize he did miss her._

_"Mama! Come look, I started dinner!" Blaine's voice answered._

_"Oh honey, this is great. But you know you shouldn't use the knife when I'm not here to help you. You could get hurt."_

_"I was careful, I promise. And this time I didn't get close to the oven! And look, the carrot sticks are really thin, just like dad likes them."_

_Maria Anderson praised his son's cooking skills like any proud mother would. She took over dinner from there, but let Blaine help in everything. Blaine talked about his day at school, about the A he had gotten in his math test, and about Maddy Kensington stumbling in gym class and dislocating her arm. Their mother commented in all the right places, laughed at Blaine's jokes, and talked a bit about her day at the office._

_It was Twilight Zone all over again, except this time it was his family that changed. Neal couldn't remember a single talk to his mother that lasted this long, or ever helping with dinner. Hell, his mother didn't use to cook unless it was a holiday._

_He was in for another surprise when he heard his dad arriving too. He commented on how good the food smelled, asked if Blaine had done his homework, and retired to the living room to wait for dinner. His father never had dinner with them when Neal lived at home. _

_It was as if they had become the perfect family now that Neal wasn't there. Was it because of him? Had his parents changed because he left? Or was it his presence that had made his family so distant and grey before? Neal had to bite his tongue to refrain from crying at the thought that they were better without him, even if he had been the one to ditch them. Sure, maybe they did stay late to work some days in which Blaine had to be alone, but his brother seemed perfectly fine with the arrangement. _

_After dinner his mother took care of the dishes, and Neal heard Blaine ask politely to his father if he could watch the news with him. The last image he got through the window was of little Blaine sitting with their dad, his back perfectly straight and his face serious, looking intently into the TV like he understood the ups and downs of the stock market._

_His little brother was well on his way of becoming the son their parents had always wanted, and maybe Neal should be happy for him. Instead, as irrational as it was, he felt as if Blaine had betrayed him._

* * *

_The one time Neal had unexpectedly stumbled with his past, two years after starting his life in New York, things were better than he could've hoped for. He figured there was a reason why his aunt Ellen had always being his favorite, even if technically they weren't related. They had crossed each other in a random street in Manhattan, but after her initial surprise to see him, she had been nothing but nice._

_ "It's good to know you are safe, dear. It was quite the uproar when you left, but I always thought your parents should have seen it coming. You were never happy in Westerville."_

_She had insisted on buying him lunch, and told him a brief story about her selling her partnership in the business she used to run with his parents before moving to Roosevelt Island. Neal could see that she was trying to be polite in her tale, but his parents had obviously been the assholes of the situation. He wasn't surprised._

_"But you were always mom's best friend," he said when she finished. "Don't you talk to her anymore?"_

_"I think leaving was the best thing I could have done to save our friendship." She answered with a kind smile. "The disagreements with your father were becoming too big to ignore. He has always been too proud to take a step back, and lately he's been having the strangest mood swings... Your mother would never go against him, so there was really no other option… I think she was relieved that she wasn't pulled in two different directions anymore. We still keep in contact, of course."_

_"Are you going to tell them that you saw me?" Neal asked, concerned. _

_"I don't think stirring that up would be for the best…" Ellen said, choosing her words carefully. "Like I said, your father is too proud, and he wouldn't accept that what happened was his fault too. Everything has settled now… unless you want to go back?"_

_"That's not even an option," Neal assured her._

_She gave him her address and phone number, and pleaded that he called her if he ever needed help. Apparently she knew better than to ask that they keep in contact and Neal was grateful for that. He sort of missed having a family, but maybe he was building one of his own. Mozzie felt like a weird, quirky but loyal older brother, and he was happy now that he had Kate._

_Neal gave her his emergency pager number just in case, but he sort of expected she'd never use it. She seemed to understand that Ohio and the Andersons were a thing of his past. _

* * *

_It was almost a year later when his pager beeped with an unfamiliar number. By then his life had fallen apart in a way he couldn't have expected, but was desperate to fix. For a moment he had the flaring hope it would be Kate reaching back to him, so he was rather disappointed when Ellen's voice answered his call._

_"It's Blaine," she said immediately, her voice filled with uncertainty. "You were always close, so I thought you'd want to know… he's in the hospital."_

_"What? What happened?" Neal asked, his blood running cold. "Is he sick? Was it an accident?"_

_"I'm not sure… it's… I only found out because of my friend on ICU at Westerville Memorial. The nurse, Rosie, remember her? She called me as soon as he was admitted because they couldn't find your parents but she remembered we were friends…"_

_"When did this happen?" Neal asked, panicking._

_"Yesterday. They managed to contact your mother after a couple of hours, so that's good, but I called her this morning and… I don't know, she was behaving strangely. She wouldn't even tell me what happened, but honey, Blaine hasn't woken up. Rosie thinks he was attacked."_

_He couldn't find a flight back to Ohio until next morning, and even though he reached Westerville by noon, he had to wait until visiting hours where over to get in. He didn't really know what he could do once he managed to get inside, but the needed to see Blaine. He just needed to make sure there was no chance of running into his parents._

_He had never impersonated a nurse, but it was just like any other con. Wait, observe, imitate. He managed to sneak a look on Blaine's file a couple of hours later, and was relieved to learn he had woken up that morning and was now out of ICU, even if they were keeping him heavily drugged. He also learned the wounds were believed a result of a fist fight._

_It was almost midnight when he managed to sneak into Blaine's room. The sight that welcomed him stole his breath in the most horrifying way._

_The boy sleeping in the bed was hooked to more wires than he could count. He looked thin and fragile, his skin an ashen tone, but the worst were the bruises. The whole right side of his face was swollen and purple with a large cut over on his eyebrow, and his left arm was wrapped in a cast. Below that Neal barely managed to recognize his brother._

_He took a couple of deep breaths before he managed to walk to the bedside. Who could have done something like this? Had Blaine gotten in trouble, somehow? Neal found it hard to believe that the same boy he saw washing vegetables for dinner years ago would be involved in anything dangerous. _

_Blaine was sleeping, but it was obvious by the various twitches and whimpers that he was still in pain. Neal fell heavily in the chair next to him, his legs shaking. He was sorely reminded why he hated violence so much, but a bigger part of him felt guilty because he hadn't been there to stop it. Sure, Blaine was no longer part of his life, but he was supposed to be _safe_. He was supposed to be the piece of his past that he regretted leaving behind, but who was better without him anyway. _

_He took Blaine's un-casted hand and gripped as hard as he dared, needing to feel his brother alive. For all he thought he had gotten over their parting last time he'd been in Westerville, he realized he was terrified of losing him. Deep inside, he had always thought they would meet again, but he had hoped for circumstances that would give him a chance get back into his life. This he didn't know what to make of. He didn't even know what had happened, but he knew he had to do something to make sure it never happened again. _

_"Cooper?" Came a barely audible voice, and Neal jumped without meaning to. His heart started to beat wildly on his chest when he raised his sight to Blaine's eyes, finding the same golden-brown pools he remembered below heavy lids. Even with glassy eyes and a battered body, it was still his little brother, and Neal felt himself sniffle. "Coop, is it really you? Am I dreaming?"_

_"Hey there, squirt," Neal replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He failed miserably. "How are you feeling?"_

_"You are really here," Blaine said with what could _probably_ count as a smile, his voice was soft and breathy. "You came back."_

_"I heard you were on a rough spot, I wanted to make sure you'd be okay." Neal said, feeling a pang of guilt. He needed to find a way to make it better. "Blaine, what happened? Who did this to you?"_

_And suddenly, Blaine looked scared. He took his hand away from him and curled onto himself like he was trying to be smaller. It made Neal feel sick. Why would his brother be afraid of him?_

_"I think it was my fault," Blaine answered, looking away from Neal. "I just wanted to feel normal for a bit. I mean, it was just a stupid dance, so I thought, why not? I thought maybe if I showed them that it didn't affect me what they said… God, I thought I was being _brave, _and I was just so stupid…"_

_By this time Blaine had tears running down his eyes, and even though he didn't understand, Neal felt his heart shattering. There was no reason why his brother should look so broken, much less over something as trivial as a dance._

_"Shhh, Blaine, calm down. What did you do in this dance? Did you fight with someone?"_

_"It was them who attacked us! We were just waiting on the parking lot and we hadn't bothered anyone. But I guess taking a boy to the dance was the last push, wasn't it? The fags where showing off so better teach them a lesson, right?" _

_Neal was speechless at Blaine's outburst, his mind barely keeping up with what he was saying. Finally, his brother's eyes came back to look at him, defiance written all over his face. _

_"I'm gay." He told him with a wavering voice._

_It wasn't at all what Neal had expected, and it took him several seconds to realize why that was relevant. By this point in his life, he had met enough gay people to be used to it, and it didn't make any difference to him one way or another. He didn't get why it should make a difference to Blaine either, except the reason was literally shown on his face._

_Oh._

_It wasn't something he had ever paid attention to when he lived in Ohio, but he did remember people were not accepting. He remembered about the boys in his school who'd get taunted because they were too feminine, the shoves on the lockers, the punches, the tripping, the name-calling. He had never participated because he hated bullies, but he had never intervened either, because it wasn't his problem. How long had Blaine been on the receiving end of it? How much people had ignored his suffering because they thought it wasn't their problem?_

_Blaine was still looking at him, and Neal felt dread at realizing that with each second of silence, his expression changed more from defiant to panicked, like he expected Neal to reject him. How many people had rejected him to make him believe that was the norm?_

_"Blainey," Neal started, as gently as he could, "I may not know exactly what happened, but having to live surrounded by homophobic assholes doesn't make this your fault." He said taking back his brother's hand on his. "There's nothing wrong with being gay, no matter what anyone tells you, okay?"_

_Blaine's eyes got big and watery. He nodded slowly, and although he still seemed rather unfocused, a tiny, _real_ smile appeared on his lips. But it only lasted a second, after which it was replaced by a deep sob. Before Neal knew how it happened, he had moved to the bed to hold his crying brother. _

_Soon his shirt got wet under Blaine's tears, big tremors shaking his body. Neal had to wonder how long he had been keeping this inside, and if there was really nobody to support him._

_"Hey, it's okay, you're okay." He repeated over and over, feeling inadequate for this task. "Blaine, do mom and dad know about this? About you?" The sobs became bigger, and Neal held him closer, already dreading the answer._

_"They won't even look at me anymore," Blaine answered, his voice hoarse and barely understandable. "I told them last year because things were _fine_, and I thought maybe they wouldn't like it but they are supposed to love me anyway, aren't they? That it would take a bit to get used to it but in the end I'm the same person…"_

_"They don't… mistreat you, do they?" Neal asked, afraid. He had left Blaine with them. If Blaine was in danger in that house, it would be his fault._

_"For that they would have to acknowledge I exist first," Blaine answered, with the tone of someone who has resigned himself to his fate. "Dad got mad at first, saying it was unnatural a devious and wrong. Mom cried a lot. Then dad stopped talking to me and mom… pretends, I guess. That I'm still the son she wants and not whatever it is that I am now. They came to visit me today, so I guess they are a bit worried, but they only really talked to the doctors, so… I didn't tell them I was talking a boy to the dance. I don't think they were very happy to find out."_

_Neal was glad that in the position they were in Blaine couldn't see him, else he'd seen the rage on his face. It wasn't fair, the way Blaine obviously doubted that his parent loved him. It wasn't fair that he had to be so lonely and miserable over a fact about himself he couldn't control. _

_"I know it must be difficult right now, but don't listen to anyone who tries to get you down because of this. Not even mom and dad. They're just being idiots. They'll have to come around, but there's nothing wrong with being yourself."_

_Blaine released himself from Neal to look at him, his eyes blotchy. _

_"Thanks for coming back. I really need someone on my side right now." He said with a small smile._

_The smile that was starting on Neal's face was instantly shot down. This was only a visit, and he had too much going on in New York, things that needed his immediate attention. He hated himself because Blaine should be his upmost priority, but he couldn't really act on it. His life was pulling him in too many directions, but staying in Westerville wasn't one of them._

_He couldn't help it when his eyes wondered to the door, attentive of the noises outside. He only had half an hour or so between the nurses rounds, and he was sure he had already used most of it. When his eyes went back to his brother, Blaine's smile was gone, and instead there was a sadness that made him feel hollow inside._

_"You're not staying, are you?" Blaine asked._

_"It's complicated," was all Neal could think as an answer. He couldn't explain that he was a con man now, that he had a frustratingly good FBI agent on his toes, that he had been chasing his lost girlfriend for months, and that he planned to steal a Rafael next week just to get her attention. He couldn't even explain how his name wasn't Cooper anymore._

_"Then take me with you." Blaine replied._

_Neal was stunned at the proposal, but the wheels on his head started turning at the possibilities. In a way, it was so tempting. Blaine deserved better than what he was getting here, someone who would accept him and love him no matter what. And maybe Neal could settle down. Peter Burke would never figure that one out, being so out of character for him. He could take Blaine and run, maybe go back to the West Coast. He could find a place where Blaine would feel accepted and safe, where they could live in peace and Neal wouldn't have to watch his back every second._

_Except it wasn't really an option. The moment he took Blaine, his brother would have to live running too. He would be involved in all the felonies Neal ever committed, not only because he wouldn't be able to hide them from him, but also because that would be the money that would support them. And beyond that, could Neal really leave his life behind? Could he switch the thrill of the con for illegal custody over a minor? Did he even realize the responsibilities that would convey?_

_Could he stop looking for Kate, and give her up for good?_

_The answer was obvious, and it made him hate himself for the first time in his life._

_"Blainey, is not that simple…"_

_"Please, Coop, don't leave me," His brother begged, tears running free one more time, and Neal felt a knot pumping on his throat. "I don't want to here anymore. I don't think anybody wants me here either. Mom and dad keep avoiding me like the plague, my friends are too scared of bullies to talk to me, and I just put the only guy who still treated me like a person in the hospital. They all hate me. Please don't make me stay."_

_"I can't-" he was cut by the sound of steps down the hallway. It was time for the nurses rounds, and Neal knew he only had a couple of minutes before in was Blaine's turn. He lowered his voice. "I can't explain right now, but you don't want to come with me. It isn't safe, and is not the life you deserve."_

_"And I deserve this?" Blaine asked, his voice desperate while he motioned to the bruises in his face. "I'm not safe at school either, and I don't even know if mom and dad care. I don't know how to survive this anymore, Cooper. Wherever you are leaving to, it can't be worse."_

_Neal had tears running down his cheeks too, but it didn't change anything. There were steps on the hallway again, this time closer, and Neal knew it was time to run. _

_"You have to be strong, Blainey, okay?" He said hurriedly, bending down and posing a quick kiss on his forehead. "You _are_ strong, and you'll get through this."_

_"No, don't go," Blaine's pleads followed him while he walked away from the bed. "Cooper please, don't leave me again. Please stay."_

_"I love you, baby brother," Neal choked. "I hope you know I _am_ sorry."_

_"Please don't–" was as far as Blaine said before his voice broke in sobs again. Unable to stand it, Neal left the room as quickly as he could, knowing there was no going back after this._

* * *

_He had never cried like he did that night. He thought he'd known real regret when he realized Kate had left him, but it wasn't even close to this._

_He felt that in abandoning Blaine when he needed him he had abandoned a piece of his soul. But really, what other option did he have? Blaine was hurt and vulnerable, yes, but that was only another reason why he couldn't just take him, expecting that Blaine would accept everything in his life. For all he knew, Blaine would be repelled when he found out what he'd been doing ever since he left home._

_His brother was better off staying, much as it pained him. Still, Neal needed to find a way to make things better, because if he left just like that, he knew the weight of shame would be unbearable._

_His parents weren't something he could fix. Actually, he knew that trying would only make things worse, no matter how much he wanted to confront them about everything they were doing wrong. Is not like he had the authority, seeing he was screwing Blaine over as much as them. But Blaine's school situation, well, that was something he could work with._

_For a while he entertained they idea of blackmailing someone, the directives, maybe, because they were obviously doing a shitty job if this kind of things happened. But the directives, while part of the problem, could never solve all of it. Moreover, it would be torture to make Blaine go back at all. No, he needed a new school for him; somewhere he'd actually be safe._

_Next morning, he began searching. He left out all public education because they obviously couldn't be trusted, which actually left him with very few option that didn't require Blaine having to go out of town. There was St. Clark, which seemed too religious for his liking, and Dalton Academy, which looked a bit too snobbish. _

_St. Clark had bible classes every week, and Neal didn't think they'd be too forward of accepting gay teens. Dalton Academy had a zero tolerance bullying policy, and that's how it became the instant winner._

_He'd thought getting Blaine there would be trickier, but it was actually fairly simple. He had enough money to spare now, and he knew making large donations did wonders on school boards. He immediately called Ellen to explain the issue, and she was more than willing to help with his parents. She had a soft spot for Blaine, but then, everyone had a soft spot for Blaine._

_By the end of the day Neal had already broken into Blaine's school to steal all his files, and mailed them to Dalton Academy, complete with a formal request with his father's fake signature, explaining Blaine's situation and his need for a safe environment. Early next morning, once he reached New York, Neal wired the donation to the school board only with the name Anderson as a reference, and waited._

_Ellen did his part by phone. She called his mother to talk about Blaine's future, and sneaked the idea of the new school. After that, a much more effective move was to call most of his father's investors and directives, with whom she was still friends, to 'catch up' and randomly mention that James Anderson, being such a concerned father and worried about his son's future, was thinking of transferring him to a private school. She didn't fail to mention, of course, about the amount of great connections young Blaine could make in that place. After all, not everyone was admitted into Dalton's halls._

_The grapevine did the rest of the job. Whatever the Andersons thought about it, they would never risk their good name and reputation. They had been trying to keep the attack in the dark as much as they could, but when rumors got around about Blaine's new academic future, they didn't even try to discredit them._

_Ellen let him know a week later when Blaine was discharged from the hospital, and once again the next month, when he started attending Dalton Academy. _

_So when Peter Burke caught him soon after, it really didn't matter. He had helped him find Kate, and had given him enough time to make sure his brother was safe. _


	5. Chapter 4

**Greetings! Here's a new chapter for you all.**

**I'm sorry this took so long. Between last chapter and this one I got a new job, which decreased my free time to a minimum. I can't really promise updates will be very quickly from now on because of that, but I'm doing my best.**

**Anyway, this isn't nearly as angsty as last chapter. Some of it is just transition, and the ending feels a bit awkward to me, but I really wanted to post today, so I hope it isn't too bad. The good news is next chapter we FINALLY get the reunion we are all waiting for, so look forward to it!**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

The roof terrace was normally used for cigarette breaks, which was the reason Neal had only been there once, the first time Peter showed him around on the Federal building. He strongly disliked the ashtray smell, but right now he could barely notice it. He needed air.

He was one of the best con artists in the world, and he was known for keeping a cold head even in the most extreme of circumstances. So he wondered what the hell had happened, having to run away like a coward to avoid what he suspected would become a panic attack.

It had been sloppy, and not at all thought through. And now he had lost all possibility to play it smooth, to keep Peter none the wiser about his relationship with their new suspect, to direct the investigation _away _from the person he probably owed the most in his life.

"Care to explain what just happened?" Peter's voices asked behind him. It had taken him all of four seconds to realize Neal had started shaking when he saw Blaine's picture, before he had freaked out and run away with his brother's file still in his hand. It was probably the most irrational thing he'd ever done in front of Peter.

Neal didn't answer, but clutched the plastic folder in his hand like his life depended on it, his eyes lost in the city view.

It couldn't be Blaine. It had been hard enough to walk away from him knowing he was losing his chance to be involved in his brother's life, but he couldn't accept that _this_ was how they would meet again. This was not what Blaine had become.

"Neal, you have to tell me something. When it comes to you, my imagination becomes the most colorful thing and I'm sorry to say it, but your little stunt in my office just made this kid my primary suspect. I'd rather you tell me what's going on before my head starts jumping into conclusions."

"It wasn't Blaine," was Neal's answer. He swallowed, trying to calm himself before he made everything worse. "I know it looks weird, but it wasn't him. It can't be."

"Okay, can you tell me where do you know Blaine from?" Peter asked, watching Neal closely.

He didn't know how to answer, how much he could disclose from his past. He hadn't thought of Blaine for years, and this was exactly the reason. His head always started to fill with shame and regret and a decent amount of self-loathing, and Neal Caffrey couldn't function like that.

"Did you meet him when you were on the run?" Peter asked, fishing. "Or is he from before?"

He had once trusted Peter with everything Neal Caffrey had done, but that tale had started with his arriving to the New York con scene and picked up from there, never saying a word about Ohio or his family. To be fair, Neal Caffrey had been born in an airport in New Heaven and didn't have a family. Anything before that belonged to Cooper Anderson, and he hadn't been Cooper Anderson for a long, long time.

"He's my brother." Neal answered simply, because his head was too muddled to even try to make something up, which Peter would see right through anyway.

"Literally or metaphorically?" Peter asked with a suspicious face, which managed to get a small laugh from Neal. The silence stretched for a little while before Neal decided what to say. Part of him wanted to lie to Peter just because he didn't know how to share something that he tried to keep hidden even from himself.

"I'll always remember when he was born," Neal said as an answer, trying to focus on a happy moments. "He was a tiny thing and looked exactly like all the other sleeping babies in the hospital, except then he would open his eyes and just… you knew he was special." Neal opened the folder again, looking at the picture and smiling despite himself. "He hasn't changed a bit."

That wasn't exactly true, seeing the last time he'd seen him… well, he preferred not to think of it. But his eyes were the same, always the same, and for a second Neal let himself enjoy the fact that Blaine was back in his life, alive and healthy, and how long had they been living in the same city without Neal knowing? He wondered what he would have done if he had learned that without all this mess in between.

Peter was looking at him with an appreciative look, like he had solved a part of the puzzle that was his life. "Huh. So, you are originally from Ohio…"

"It's was a lifetime away, Peter." Neal said before he tried to suck him into a childhood reminiscence moment. "There's nothing left from that time in me. I'm just Neal Caffrey now."

"Looks to me like there _is_ something left from your Ohio life," answered Peter, taking Blaine's file from Neal's hand. "Anderson… somehow I always expected your background to be more… exotic."

Neal smiled a bit at that, remembering his days as part of a suburb family. "It was boring. Blaine was probably the only thing that kept me sane."

"Seems to me like Blaine didn't do a very good job at it," Peter opined with a smirk, and even though Neal knew it was a joke, he felt anger rising inside of him. He couldn't let anyone mess with his brother, not even Peter.

"Blaine has _nothing_ to do with anything I've done since I left," Neal answered, looking at Peter with a stern face. "So don't start making any assumptions because it's not his fault if he ended up having a brother like me, okay? He never did anything wrong."

"I wasn't implying that he did," Peter replied, obviously surprised at Neal's sudden change.

"Really? Didn't you just say that my involvement with him made him your primary suspect?"

"That's not what I meant-"

"That's _exactly_ what you meant!" Neal wasn't sure when he had raised his voice, but he couldn't stop. "But I'm not letting you judge Blaine for the things I did, you hear me? I've seen him twice since I left home so is not like I could corrupt him or anything, and I'm pretty sure that the mere fact that he shares blood with me doesn't make him a con. He's innocent."

"Whoa, wait a second right there," Peter said, setting his hands firmly at Neal's shoulders. It was then that he realized he was shaking again and he immediately felt embarrassed over his little burst out. "I never meant that and you know it. I didn't know he was your brother when I said it, but you _do_ have a past of felonies, and I didn't know if he was part of _that_ past, or if he could be a bad influence on you. I had to make sure."

Neal sighed, feeling drained and tired now that his anger was gone. He sat on one of the benches, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Peter." He said with genuine feeling. "I just… I didn't expect to see him again. We didn't exactly part on the best terms…"

Peter sat at his side, offering a hand on his shoulder for support. "I can see this is a sensitive topic for you, but Neal, he _is_ a suspect, and I do have to investigate him."

"It wasn't him." Neal repeated, but this time his voice lacked strength. "Blaine would never do something like that."

"You've only seen him twice in as many years," Peter said, repeating his words, "Things can change."

Peter's voice was kind, but Neal knew where he was heading.

"You'll think I'm crazy, but I _know_ him, Peter. Blaine is the greatest kid you could ever meet, he wouldn't hurt a fly, much less rob a museum."

"He isn't a kid anymore, Neal." Peter looked at him with a sad smile, and for a second Neal hated him. Hated that he doubted Blaine, but mostly hated that he was right. Blaine wasn't a kid, and Neal didn't know him anymore. He had chosen to walk away.

There was a long silence between them, both watching the afternoon wing down on the New York skyline. A part of Neal wondered if Blaine would be watching the same sky, wondered how many times they had unknowingly shared the same view. Had they ever crossed paths in the street without realizing? Had they ever been in the same place, in the same restaurant, park or coffee shop, without knowing it?

That was probably for the best. He didn't think Blaine would be too happy about seeing him. He knew _he_ was terrified of such an encounter. In all his years of prison and later as a FBI consultant, he had never built up the courage to even revisit that moment of his life. Sometimes he thought about contacting Ellen again, seeing whether she knew if he was doing okay, but he relented every time because he didn't know what he'd do if he found out he wasn't. Neal had lost his pager after going to jail, so if Ellen ever contacted him again, he never knew. The mere idea of having lost Blaine forever while he was away was so terrifying he preferred not to know.

"Listen, why don't you head home early today?" Peter broke his thoughts, his face kind but worried. "I don't think you'll be any good to the case right now. You need to figure yourself out."

"No, I prefer to know what's going on. If something else about Blaine comes up-"

"I'll let you know right away. But honestly, I don't think we'll get anything else today. Diana and Clinton won't be back from that mortgage case until late, and I have some paperwork to catch up with. We can continue this in the morning. You really need to clear up your head."

Neal looked at Peter gratefully. It was nice, knowing he had someone to count on, someone who had his back and went out of his way to take care of him. It warmed him in a way he didn't believed possible in this situation. Whatever happened with Blaine, Peter would be there for him.

"You promise you won't keep looking into it without me?" Neal asked just to make sure. He needed to be involved in everything about this case from now on.

"I'll finish the reports on the museum employees and musicians. I can't promise nothing will come up from it, but I highly doubt it. If it does though, you'll be the first to know." Peter said, and as always, Neal knew he could trust his word.

"And Blaine's relation to me?" He asked. "Can it stay between us?"

Peter looked at him appreciatively. Neal tried to look as innocent as possible, which was easy because for once, he was. Blaine and he hadn't had any involvement for years, so there was no way he could have influenced him. But he wasn't naïve, he knew that piece of information would only hurt Blaine's situation.

"I'll keep it to myself for now. If it remains irrelevant to the case, I don't see why anyone else should know." Peter answered.

"Thank you." Neal replied gratefully.

* * *

Once he was home for more than half an hour, Neal started thinking that being alone with his thoughts wasn't the smartest idea.

It made him feel needy and stupid, but he wished he had stayed with Peter. He was always the best at helping him figure out himself (not that he'd ever tell him) and it was exactly what he needed right now. Having to go alone through the memories of his relationship with Blaine was a territory he had always been too afraid to take.

But then, there wasn't much Peter could do to help him if Neal didn't tell him the whole story, and he wasn't sure he was ready to do that either. It was one thing to tell him all about Neal Caffrey's endeavors when Peter already knew or suspected about most of them, and overall, Peter already knew he was a con. He also knew the kind of conman he was, and although he'd made several mistakes in that path, he had always had rules and morals that Peter respected. No violence, no guns, no stealing from people who weren't already sufficiently rich, and mostly just rely on in his wit and artistic proficiency.

But his story with Blaine was so different. He didn't know if he could explain how he forgot about his brother when he was running away the first time, even when he knew the boy had been the only worthy part of his life in Ohio. He regretted leaving for good once more three years later, because if he had kept an eye on his brother maybe he would've been able to help before things went so wrong. But no, he had gone and actually _resented_ Blaine for daring to have a decent relationship with his parents after he ditched them all. And wasn't leaving him scared and hurt in a hospital bed just the icing on the cake?

He didn't know how to tell Peter because he knew Peter would be incapable of doing something like that to a person he loved, much less if said person was just a child. And Neal wanted to think he was different now, that he wouldn't do such a thing either, not when he had grown up and faced what deception and betrayal and loneliness felt like. Ha was a better man, and _that_ was the man Peter knew. Neal didn't want him to learn it hadn't always been so.

And there was always a deep shame under the surface, because even after everything, he couldn't really regret leaving Blaine to become Neal Caffrey. His new persona had allowed him to live the life he always wanted, had taught him the good and the bad from the con world, but more than that, it had given him the chance to reconcile his views on people.

Back in Westerville, being around dull individuals and distant parents, he'd always thought that that was all there was to the world. He _craved_ for something different, but a cynic part of him had thought people were just not worth it. He suspected that was the reason he had been so self-centered and stupid, so he knew getting away had been the best thing he could do. In reward he had gotten Mozzie and Kate, and later Peter and El and June and Sara and his new weird family on the White Collar division.

Neal Caffrey loved his life, but the cost of it had been Blaine. It tormented him to know that given the chance, he would probably do the same all over again. It looked like his selfish side hadn't changed very much after all.

Neal sighed and walked to the liquor cabinet. If there was a time to have a drink, this was it.

After two whiskeys, his thoughts started moving to better places, and he decided this stuff was called liquid courage for a good reason. After all, he was _Neal Caffrey_, conman extraordinaire, even if he was playing on the other side of the fence now. There was no reason why he couldn't help his brother and make up for past mistakes, especially if the problem fell right on his area of expertise.

He had to find the real thief and clear Blaine's name. He wondered for a bit why he was so sure Blaine wouldn't have done it, but there was no point. For once, he didn't _know_ it with facts like he usually did, but his instinct was strong. And it said Blaine was as innocent and the little boy he had left crying in an airport in Ohio years before.

Neal downed the last of his drink, and started making plans in his head about the next step on the case. This was now personal, and as much as he trusted Peter, he needed to take matters into his own hand. Peter may be too cautious to pursue the lead on Kurt Hummel yet, but Neal couldn't wait.

It was a shame because he had liked Kurt, but this time Blaine had to come first.

* * *

Kurt Hummel seemed to be a man of habits, at least were his coffee was concerned. Neal arrived early to the theatre doors to make sure he didn't miss him, but he shouldn't have worried. Kurt arrived a good half an hour before the time Neal suspected was his rehearsal, and just like the day before he headed for the coffee shop and got an insanely big beverage.

Neal got himself a long drip again, and headed for the outside tables. Kurt was using exactly the same table he had the day before, and was immersed on his phone once again. Neal waited for about a minute until he seemed to take a break to sip his coffee, and walked to him.

"Hey Kurt! Figure finding you here again." Neal greeted with the brightest smile he could muster. Kurt looked up and recognized him immediately. His face was a guarded but Neal could detect some amusement too.

"Hey yourself," Kurt replied, and Neal didn't wait to ask permission before he sat in front of him. "So, is this a thing we do now?" Kurt asked, and although there _was_ some apprehension in his voice, Neal could also hear curiosity.

"Well, I like the coffee here, and it's on the way to my office." Neal answered.

"How convenient." Kurt answered, but didn't say anything else. Neal sighed.

"Look, Kurt, I wanted to make up for yesterday. I think you got the wrong impression of me," Neal started, going for his 'emotional' face. "I find you very interesting, but I can get how that made it seem like I came onto you too strongly. I'm sorry."

He could see his words having instant impact on Kurt. After all, being just some random guy in a coffee shop, Kurt had no real reason to distrust him. Neal planned to thread carefully to keep it like that, although he needed to take some risks today. He needed _something_ he could give to Peter to stray him from Blaine's scent.

Kurt hesitated for a bit, but finally smiled at Neal.

"No, I'm sorry too. Sometimes I'm just on the defensive side. And you _are_ nice, Neal." Kurt said with a kind voice. "I probably just wanted to be clear about things. I do have a boyfriend," he remarked.

"Well, would he mind if you just shared coffee with me while we talk fashion sometimes? That's all I'm asking." Neal said, making sure there was no winking involved. The friend approach was obviously the right one with this guy.

Kurt smiled. "That would be fine. And I see your trying your hand with accessories," he said, pointing to Neal's tie.

It was just a small silver tiepin, but it was the best he could do with so little time. Besides, he couldn't try something too outrageous just to impress Kurt if he had to go to work on the same clothes afterwards.

"I know it's not much, but I wanted to start small," Neal answered smiling.

"It looks very tasteful, if a bit on the serious side. But then, you have a serious job, so maybe it's for the best."

They talked about accessories for a couple of minutes. Neal was fairly sure he was managing to hold a decent conversation on the topic, even though Kurt obviously knew a lot more than him about it. The boy was snarky, but somehow it just made him more interesting. Still, Neal didn't allow himself to dwell too much on it, because this wasn't about Kurt being fun to hang out with. It was about discovering what part he had taken on the theft.

"So I have to confess something," Neal said when there was a pause. There wasn't much time before Kurt had to go to the theatre, and Neal couldn't wait another day. "The reason I talked to you yesterday wasn't because I wanted a table. Well, I did want to sit with my coffee, but I recognized you from somewhere else."

"We've met before?" Kurt asked surprised. "I don't think I would forget you."

Neal took that as a compliment, but didn't comment on it. Friend approach.

"Well, I had a job on the Met last Friday, and ended up staying a bit late." Neal said. He had thought for hours to make sure his story would be believable. "I knew there was this showcase, and I like to appreciate art in all its forms, so I hung out for a bit there to listen. I remember you from the attendants."

Kurt's eyebrows were raised still in surprise, but Neal hoped he sounded innocent so far.

"I don't remember seeing you. I'm pretty sure you weren't at the cocktail party afterwards." He said, and Neal detected a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Oh, I didn't stay for that. I mean, I didn't have an invitation, and I heard it was pretty exclusive, so I just stayed for a little. But it would have been difficult not to notice you, seeing that you were wearing a corset." At that, Neal dared a wink, hoping that it would be taken as friendly. "I think it caused quite an impression on everyone."

Kurt blushed a bit, but he was also smiling. He should have known from the beginning that the way to Kurt was through clothes.

"It was just something I wanted to try out. I, er… my boyfriend really likes it when I wear them so I thought, why not? Fashion is all about taking risks." He said, a bit defensively.

"I'm not judging. I just thought you were _really_ brave to wear that in an event filled with rich old snobs, so yeah. When I saw you yesterday and I thought I _had_ to talk to you."

The conversation was a bit on the side of flirting again, but Neal really couldn't think of any other way. Still, Kurt didn't look like he minded this time, having already established that he was taken.

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment, then. If you ever want to learn how wear a corset, you know where to find me. I think you could pull it off."

At that Neal laughed, feeling the conversation set into a more easy and friendly environment. It was the perfect moment.

"I don't know if I'm that daring. But who knows? I'm starting small, but it could evolve into anything." Neal said, shearing a smile with Kurt. He took a drink of his coffee, and when Kurt didn't say anything else, he talked again. "I was really shocked because you came out of the backstage door, and for a minute I thought you were performing too. That would have been quite a sight."

Kurt laughed at that, although Neal could see it wasn't completely real. There was something new in Kurt's demeanor, and Neal hoped he would pick up the barely-there question. As far as he could feel it, it was innocent enough.

"No, no. That's not my kind of stage, but as you say, it would have been quite a sight." He said, and drank some more of his coffee. It didn't look like he would give an explanation to Neal. Damn it.

"So what where you doing backstage, anyway?" He asked, hoping he sounded nonchalant. Kurt pursed his lips.

"I just went in to say hi to someone." Kurt replied like it wasn't important, but Neal could see he was getting a bit nervous. His eyes started darting to the theatre entrance.

"Oh, are you friends with someone from the staff? I know most of them. Please tell me it wasn't Joanna, because then I'd have to wonder about your taste in friends." Neal said jokingly, but his eyes were trained on Kurt. He was now fiddling with his hands.

"No, not anyone from the staff. Umm, just someone from the orchestra," he replied.

"Really? Weren't they all onstage? I'm sure you came out a while after them." Neal said, trying to sound innocent, but Kurt was already on defensive mode again. He took his phone and coffee and started to stand up.

"I stayed behind for a bit. Outfit issue, you know how it is." He said hurriedly. "I have to go."

"Oh, ok," Neal said, cursing because he hadn't really gotten anything concrete. Kurt getting nervous about answering a question was hardly enough evidence for Peter. "Will you be here tomorrow? For coffee?"

Kurt hesitated. He looked at Neal again and bit his lip. Neal tried to keep a hopeful face.

"I guess I'll be here, unless something comes up", Kurt answered. Neal had to admit it was a great phrase to be non-committedly polite. "Bye, Neal."

Neal just waved his hand, looking as Kurt entered the theatre.

It wasn't enough, but it was better than yesterday. And yes, Peter would be mad at him for talking to Kurt without telling him, but hopefully he would get this as enough evidence to start their investigation on Kurt, and leave Blaine alone.


End file.
